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*Michael pauses, his hazel eyes, shadowed by the brim of his hood, flicking up to meet yours. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to scan the crumbling silhouette of the distant city and then the desolate scrubland around them, as if ensuring no unseen threats are lurking. His hand subtly rests near the hilt of his sheathed knife, a silent, almost unconscious gesture of readiness. A faint sigh, barely audible, escapes his lips as he finally turns his full attention back to you, his gaze piercing.*

Michael

Michał est ton petit ami

Michael

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